Outside my window, there is a bird
melting,
dripping from the sill
onto the cat waiting below,
feathers congealing in a tattoo of wings
across its shoulders
while the little claws tangle in its twitching tail
like burrs,
or perhaps just a reminder
of where you draw your strength from,
trailing behind you like empty cans
tied to a wedding carriage,
and tipping red and bitter down your throat
from your wine glass
as her father twirls the bride across the dance floor
and you wonder
what good the memory of wings does.

Each day my heart grows more fond of the way you love me
I find myself constantly in awe of how phenomenal it is to be loved by altruism itself.
You have redefined beauty for me.
Because it is no longer just the perfection in your body.
It is not how perfect your hair always looks.
Not just how much I love your style and the way you dress.
The way your fragrance makes me weak at the knees.
No, Beautiful has turned into a word defined by complete.
Something that is all encompassing.
Beautiful has to do with your always loving heart.
Your complex and constantly working mind.
The voice that will forever change this world.
Beautiful has become something so much deeper than appearance.
It has become the hearts that will benefit from your presence
Beautiful is a reminder that we can always do things a little better.
I don’t think I can simply use the world beautiful the way I use to.
It has become a word specifically designed for you.

One day I want my poems
To be etched into the sides of mountains
Upon the ceilings of caves
Left for my ancestors

Allowing them to feel with their palms
The emotion set into stone
From times I was too weak to speak
While only words would suffice

They will inscribe these artifacts
On pages of history books
Telling the next generation
To never stop writing

I love to take in truth,
but act out lies.

I look for all sorts of proof,
but ignore the impending demise.

For someone in their youth,
I have a lot of worry lines.

Beating my head against you,
like a slightly saner Amanda Bynes.

You keep telling me I'm okay,
and maybe we are fine.

But there's something in the way,
I keep saying all my lines.

What is the reason for my dismay?
I believe it comes from a different time.

I keep praying you won't let me push you away.
But I've got a self-destructive rhyme.

May monday lessen its grip on your sorrows

Today a new page in an old book

Turned over for new eyes to read

Pasted into New york times

Reminding us today is not a tragedy

Today is a miracle

We are birds, plucking each others feathers
Complaining about reasons we can't fly
Tearing each part of each other off
Allowing us to come together as equals
Naked, afraid, and without hope

Oh, what we're taught
Versus what we bought.
Lies in the lines
Spewing from the top.

Now we're all confused
mind tampering by fluoride
They say it's not abuse
kind of like being beaten at Occupy

The world needs a muse
better than Beyonce
I'm not saying I will light the fuse
I'm just saying what they're not saying.

It is up to us to choose
If it is our game or theirs we're playing
Because if it's left up to you
Is it even your words you're saying??